The Saturday Leisure Hour
by Jubalii
Summary: Eve doesn't know what she wants, other than to be able to read her stories on the weekends. Of course, she can always figure it out the hard way, can't she?


Forget Saturn. Saturday was _Eve's_ day.

Labyrinthian weekends were days of relaxation for the town. Forges and shops were closed to allow the workers a brief respite, and as a consequence the town was quieter without the telltale sounds of ringing hammers and bustling patrons. Most eateries opened on Saturday afternoon to allow the blushing apprentices, free from the stress of the weekdays, to spend some quality time with their dates. The tavern was deserted during the day, but the minute the sun went down the sound of clinking glasses and drunken shouts rang out through the alley and all the way to the empty marketplace.

The Courthouse was also closed, and reconstruction work was always put off until the following Monday. And while this was perfectly well and good, there was _another_ reason that Eve always looked forward to Saturdays. Each Saturday morning, she knew that she would wake up to find a copy of the 'Labyrinthian Leisure Hour' in her mailbox, delivered early that morning by a sleepy-eyed Miss Mailer, who was already dreaming of finishing her shift and crawling back into her warm bed to sleep the afternoon away.

The Leisure Hour was less of a literary magazine and more of a smaller, less formal newsprint. And yet _that_ wasn't right either, since it would have to have news in it to be called a newsprint. It was a small booklet, larger than a pamphlet but thinner than a novel, and within its pages contained all sorts of interesting things. Everyone in the town could find _something_ to read in it, and most households had an indefinite subscription to the weekly edition.

Housewives loved to peruse the scandalous gossip section, where the town rumors were printed out with initials for the names (thought it was easy to know who was being spoken of). Eve had even seen Mrs. Eclaire reading it, her gloved hand muffling her laughter as she shook her head at the latest town buzz. Children loved to read the comedy tales of Knockly the Knight and his bandy-legged steed. The older ones relished the epic ballad of the infamous bandit Petter the Pumpkin Stealer, the schoolgirls sighing over the handsome rogue while their male counterparts ran around the playground fighting mock battles with Darren Do-Good.

There was a classifieds page where townspeople could volunteer services, post jobs, sale and buy items, or just fill out a lonely hearts ad. There was a recipe section which highlighted a dish of the week along with the recipe. The sports page spoke of the latest jousting tournament and held interviews with the stars of the newly invented Labyrinthian Bowling League. There was even a poetry and songs section where would-be bards—and birds— showcased their talents.

But all this, while interesting, was not what Eve wanted to see. No, her mind was always focused on getting the latest edition for one thing—the back-of-the-book story. That section never had a real name, as far as Eve could tell. If it did, it had been forgotten over time. The unofficial term had arisen from hearing one too many kids having their ears boxed by their mothers for 'peeking in the back of the book'. The stories in the back _weren't_ for young eyes to read (though many did anyway). No, these were romance stories filled with pretty girls and muscled youths, each one trying to outdo the last in terms of what could be put into a censored family paper. Needless to say, the ladies of Labyrinthia ate them up. In a town where television was unknown, the Leisure Hour was the closest thing they had to a soap opera.

The current tale was of an immoral knight, a captain of the guard, and his hostage, the princess of the king he was supposed to protect. The princess was being seduced by her dastardly captor, and while she resisted as best she could with an iron will and quick wit, she was ultimately powerless to his charisma and charm. The last installment had ended on a cliffhanger, with the heroine lashing out and slapping the captain for a lewd remark. All week Eve had been waiting with bated breath to see how the captain would react. Would he be angry? Aroused?

Her mind bounced back and forth between a few choice scenarios; she'd love to read all of her imagined chapters, though she doubted many of them would be in the paper. After all, some things were just _too_ racy for a cheap weekly print. Still, the romance-horror story had been very graphic last month in its description of the murder scene… perhaps the censors would keep their guards down for this not-so-innocent one? And now, the day had finally come for her to find out what would happen to poor Princess Lucille!

Her chores for the morning had been hastily done, and she finally was able to sit down on the sofa where the Leisure Hour awaited her. She drew her legs up beneath her, resting the booklet on her knees as she took a sip of the tea she'd brewed a few moments before. She breathed in the aromatic fragrance, a serene smile crossing her face as she grabbed her reading glasses and slipped them on, pulling the lamp closer so that she could read in better light. The flame flickered inside the glass base and she was forced to steady the lamp until the oil stopped sloshing in its canister. She flipped through the book until she found it:

 **A PRINCESS'S PERILOUS LOVE: THE HEARTPOUNDING CONCLUSION!**

Eve felt a thrill of excitement run through her. This was the last chapter! She took another drink of her tea, settling further into the corner of the sofa as she read. _In our last chapter, the valiant Princess Lucille was insulted by the utterly underhanded Sir Regale. In an effort to preserve her innocent name, our hostage managed to free one of her hands and strike the lowbrow ne'er-do-well across the cheek. How will this crafty witchson respond to such a blatant display of defiance? Find out on the next page!_ Eve chewed her lip as she turned the page, resting her elbow on the arm of the sofa so that she could angle the page towards the light.

 _The mark left a red streak across the chiseled jaw, and Lucille felt herself immediately draw back in alarm. She'd struck him! In an thoughtless act, she might have just spelled out her doom! The former captain of the guard placed his palm over the mark, eyes closed for a long moment. Lucille could see that he was struggling to maintain his calm. She prepared for the onslaught of his rage, praying that it came in the form of a swift, almost painless sword through the heart._

" _My, my… I must be rubbing off on you, Your Highness," he said after a moment, chuckling as he rubbed his cheek. "I'd never have thought you to be one to strike_ _ **me**_ _." Lucille puffed out her chest, standing high in the face of his amusement although deep down, she was shaking. That had been her strongest blow, and it had barely fazed him!_

" _If you come any closer I'll strike you again…_ _ **harder**_ _," she promised, swallowing hard. His eyes glimmered in the low firelight, a grin stretching from ear to ear before he whistled in mock impressment._

" _Promise?" he asked, intentionally taking a slow step forward. "You may not understand this yet, Princess, but…" He leaned in. "I like it when a lady hits me. I'd be much obliged if you did it again."_ Eve closed the book, keeping her finger to mark her place as her face flushed. The captain liked to be dominated?! She hadn't expected that! Why hadn't she seen that coming?

She was tempted to pause long enough to find where she'd stashed the rest of the month's supply and read back over the story to see if she could pick up any underlying hints. She always kept the entire story if she liked it, usually since there was always a foreshadowing moment that she'd miss the first time. No, she'd do that later. Now was the time to read; after all, she'd waited all week for this! She opened the book again, eager to find out what happened next.

 _Lucille gasped audibly, the spicy scent of the knight's cologne in her nose as he came closer. He grinned, winking impishly as he tugged one of her raven locks._

" _After all, you've already—"_

There was a loud banging at the door, and Eve nearly threw the booklet across the room as her head snapped up. Who the hell was interrupting her Leisure Hour time!? It was Saturday, for God's sake! She growled and pulled the booklet back up to her face, hoping that whoever it was would think that she wasn't in. There was a brief pause, and then the banging became louder. She looked up, eyeing the fire in the hearth. Of course… whoever it was would see the smoke from the chimney and know that she was home; she wouldn't leave a fire in her house unattended. She rolled her eyes and put the book face-down on the sofa so that she didn't lose her place, drinking the last of her tea in one large gulp before heading for the front door. _This had better be good_ , she thought irritably.

When her father had commissioned the house to be built for her so that she could be closer to her Shades, he'd installed a peephole in the door. However, the peephole was Sir Belduke size, and Eve Belduke was a full head shorter than her father had been. Therefore, to use the peephole she had to stand on her tiptoes. Her glasses made things harder and she slid them down her nose, eye pressed against the door as she looked to see who had the nerve to come calling on her day off.

There was a flash of orange and then a gray iris stared back at her, causing her to jump back from the peephole as though she'd been electrocuted. Her shoulders slumped—he'd seen her now, she couldn't sneak away from the door. She shook her head and opened the door, only to nearly be knocked on her rear as a white blur ran between her legs, barking madly.

"Constantine, no! We haven't been invited in yet!" Eve turned to look behind her as the pup stopped, his helmet gleaming from the light shining through her hallway window. His tail wagged twice and he offered Eve a complimentary growl—his usual way of greeting her, aside from biting her boot and then running before she could kick at him. _That mutt!_ She glared, but sadly dogs don't understand human social limitations, and turned to run up the stairs. Most of the doors were shut up there, so he couldn't get into much trouble. _He better not mark anything… his master will pay the price._

Turning back to said 'master', she looked up him over once, then again, without saying anything. She couldn't be rude and say 'go away', so she compromised with a brusque, yet neutral, phrase.

"What do you want?" He was staring at her face as though he'd never seen her before, and she arched a brow questioningly. At the movement, he cleared his throat and shuffled his feet, pointing almost shyly at her eyes.

"When did you get glasses?" he asked curiously. She slid them back up her face and adjusted them self-consciously. She usually left them by the sofa, but in her anger at being interrupted she had forgotten.

"I've had them for a while. They're only reading glasses," she said offhandedly, hoping her terse tone would make him change the subject. But _of course_ he just had to be as dense as his mutt.

"You never wear them when you read at work," he pointed out.

"There's more than enough light at work that I don't need them," she responded impatiently. "Did you come here on a social call, Zacharias?"

"No, not exactly," he laughed before thrusting some papers across the threshold and into her hands. "You left these at work yesterday and I knew that you'd need them, so I brought them over since the bakery is closed today." She took the papers from him and looked down at them. He was right; she _would_ need them tomorrow in her preparations for the upcoming week's work. _Damn you, Zacharias; why did you choose today, of all days, to be a good coworker?_

That wasn't really fair though, she amended. He might not have always been the easiest to work with, but he was always sincere in everything he had ever done. More than once she wondered how she had ever managed Labyrinthia without having someone like him around to pick up all the fieldwork missions so that she could work on the more important, secretive things. Now that she didn't have to worry about the Shades, it didn't really matter what he did anymore. Still, he _tried_ to be a help to her, even if he was stretched thin between her, the garrison, and the bakery.

While she pondered this he had taken the liberty of stepping inside, looking around curiously at her furnishings. She looked up to see his head at an angle as he tried to spy what was on the upper landing. She cleared her throat, effectively gaining his attention.

"Would you care to come inside?" she asked deliberately, pursing her lips as she moved past him and into the main hallway. To her surprise he actually blushed ad laughed sheepishly, scratching his head. _So you do have some sense of etiquette after all, Sir Knight,_ she thought in amusement. _And here I thought you were a complete knucklehead like the rest of those fools at the garrison._

He followed her into the sitting room, where the fire still burned cheerfully and the lamp still flickered, the oil only halfway gone. She moved to put the papers on her desk, taking a moment to get them into the proper order. She hated to try and work with her things all jumbled. She heard him pause at the door and look around, but ignored him until her things were shipshape. When she turned around, her heart sank down to her knees and she was barely able to keep still. He was standing at the sofa, her booklet in his hands as he read with interest. _Oh no-oh, don't- not that—_ she must have made some sound, as he looked up and grinned mischievously. He snapped his wrist, popping the pages up to where they weren't crinkled by gravity.

"Miss Eve, I had no idea you readthe back of the book," he teased, clucking as he looked back down at the paper. "I mean, I expected that Espella probably does, and I know for a fact that Mrs. Patty does, but _you?_ I'd never have thought, not in a century." He hummed under his breath, shaking his head.

"That's—that's my—you leave that alone, Zacharias! Put it down," she ordered firmly, the way she'd speak to a low-level page or a rookie knight fresh from training. He merely flipped the page, reading on. He read over a line and his eyebrows rose, the grin widening as he laughed under his breath.

"I like the recipe section now that I'm working at the bakery, but I've never looked this far back before…" His mocking expression turned to one of genuine interest. "Do women really read these sorts of things all the time? Do you like it?" She couldn't find it in herself to answer, her shyness welling up inside her chest and threatening to strangle her with humiliation. She felt her cheeks heating up and forced it back, closing her eyes. She would _not_ be cowed by him, not by someone as insignificant as Zacharias Barnham!

"I don't know what you're talking about," she said quickly, before her throat closed up entirely. "I haven't read that far into it, you interrupted me when I was trying to—" Her voice trailed off as he looked back up at her, something close to ingenuity working in his face. She could almost see the gears turning behind his eyes as he thought. His face lapsed into seriousness before returning to the previous playful, almost boyish look.

"Would you like me to tell you what happens?" he asked, and she wasn't able to keep the blush from working its way up her neck any longer.

"What!?" she yelled, her voice breaking as it went higher. "What on earth—don't say such—what are you—" She couldn't manage to formulate a single sentence, and her frustration grew with her bafflement. What the hell did he think he was doing?! He only laughed again and then looked down at the page. He cleared his throat dramatically, stepping close and speaking in a low voice.

"He grinned, winking impishly as he tugged one of her raven locks. "After all," he added, his voice curling like silk through the air between them, "you've already got my attention. Why waste that?" His hand pushed the hair back from her face as he spoke." In a clear imitation, his own hand rose and his knuckles brushed the side of her cheek lightly. She froze, completely taken aback by such a blatant move. She had half a mind to take a page from Princess Lucille's book and slap him so hard that he'd revert to his past memories, but something stopped her from moving.

 _What is… this feeling?_ He was still talking, but she wasn't paying any attention. Outwardly she was still, eyes locked on his face as he read the story, but inside, she was beyond confused. From the moment he touched her, a jolt went through her body, but it hadn't been static electricity. Even now, her heartrate was higher, a warmth spreading along her arms and up to her face. Still speaking, not even _looking_ at her, his fingers brushed her cheek again and a shiver ran down her spine. He took his hand away and she leant forward without thinking, smothering a small sound of protest in her throat. _Wait; I want…._ Realization crept over her and she shivered again, this time from trepidation. She wanted—what she felt— _desire. I want_ _ **him**_ _._

For the first time, she understood the appeal that he had, that made all the women in town want him to notice them. He swallowed between sentences and she watched his neck bob, her eyes traveling down to where smooth skin and broad muscle became hidden by his shirt. She noticed things she'd never noticed about him before, despite working with him for so long. His hair was ruffled with an inattentive casualness, as though he ran his fingers through it often. His skin was discolored around the scar on his forehead, cutting through his left brow and forming a distinct mark. She'd always wondered where he had gotten it; she was almost certain he'd not had it when she was first introduced to him. He had told her it was an injury from another knight, but no one knew who this mysterious knight actually was.

She came back to reality and realized that he'd stopped talking. She inhaled quickly, licking her lips. His eyes followed the motion before meeting hers again, and she saw some semblance of what she felt reflected in his intense gaze. He blinked and it was gone, replaced by a carefully bland, neutral look. _I've seen that look before… w-wait, does that mean—_ She was shaken from her thoughts as he tossed the book onto the desk behind her with forced casualness, laughing one octave too loudly for it to be natural.

"Well then, I guess that's that, isn't it?" he said cheerfully, his eyes moving to stare at a small stain on her ceiling. She frowned at him, wishing that she'd been paying attention. Had he seen her growing anger and back out of his little game? A new annoyance swelled in her chest, forcing her awkward desire to the side for a moment.

" _That's that_? No, Sir Knight, you finish what you started," she ordered sharply. His expression became panicked and he glanced back at her dubiously.

"W-What?!" He looked uncomfortable, and he was quickly turning red. "M-Miss Eve, 'twere only jest… I didn't, um; I didn't think that you'd appreciate—" He faltered when he saw her glare, wilting and taking a half-step back. "A-Are you in earnest? Really?"

"Don't leave things half done, even if you _are_ just trying to make a mockery of yourself!" She crossed her arms, tapping her foot impatiently. "I believe you'll find that it takes much more than some simple teasing to shake me—?"She hesitated when he stepped closer than was socially acceptable, his face hardening. In two swift moves he had her arms locked behind her back, her lower back digging into the side of the desk. In her shock and confusion she didn't try to twist away, and he took the opportunity to grab her hair, forcing her head back with one firm, but gentle tug. _This… must have been a good chapter,_ she thought hazily, her mind still trying to catch up to the situation. Here he paused again, almost as though he were waiting for her.

"Zacharias?" she asked uneasily, not liking the strange gleam in his eyes. He managed a weak smile.

"I'm still waiting for you to stop me, Miss Eve," he admitted. "Maybe I'm not the best judge of character, but I always assumed that you were a—a v—that you'd never—" He seemed too embarrassed to go on. She arched a brow imperiously and he gulped. "I just never thought you'd want to be held down when someone was trying to, ah…." He cleared his throat.

"What are you talking about?" she muttered, craning her neck to try and see the Leisure Hour. At the most he'd probably, what, kiss her? She found the page in the corner of her eye and managed to read a line near the bottom: _His hand slid beneath her dress, running along the inside of her thigh_ — She gave a strangled yelp and began twisting her body, trying to make him let go. "Just _what_ were you planning on doing to me while holding me down!?" she shouted accusingly. Immediately he let her go, hands in the air in a submissive, defensive position as he backed away.

"Y-You said! I thought you'd just—I _told_ you that I didn't think you'd want to!" he replied just as loudly, his face as red as the embers glowing in the fireplace. "Tis why I was waiting on you; I thought you were just _testing_ me or something!" She adjusted her glasses again, snatching up the Leisure Hour and flipping to the next page, only to sigh in relief. The 'hero' burst in to break up the little tryst between the rogue knight and the semi-willing princess, but of course the fool hadn't read ahead. Just like she had, he'd drawn his own conclusions.

She looked back up to see that he'd somehow backed up to the door, standing in the threshold and staring at her as though she were about to take the poker from the fireplace and jab it right through him like a lance. Her lips tightened into a thin line and she rubbed her temple, a question swimming at the back of her mind. She didn't want to ask it, but at the same time, she felt as though she needed to.

"You'd really… you'd really want to do something like that? With me?" she finally blurted out, feeling her own face heat up. "What, do you have perverted thoughts about me or something?" she accused, pointing a finger at him. "Well?"

"I… invoke the right to avoid self-implication," he said, slowly inching out the door until his voice echoed in the corridor. "As a citizen of Labyrinthia."

"Get back in here!" She stomped across the room, but by the time she reached the hallway he was standing in the front door. "Zacharias!"

"What?"

"You never answered my question." She felt utterly foolish, standing fourteen feet away from him merely because he was embarrassed about being attracted to her. "If I hadn't stopped you, would you have done that sort of thing? With me?" He looked down at the floor. "Do you like me that much?" The edge of his boot tapped on the wood as his jaw worked.

"I don't give homemade gifts to just anyone," he said, so softly that she could barely hear him over the crackle of the fire behind her. "Even if it wasn't what I had wanted to give you originally, I was going to—in my mind, that is—bake you something really nice." He looked up suddenly, hands becoming fists. "What sort of man do you take me for?! I don't play with women's affections!" She rolled her eyes; did he really not notice that he was stringing Labyrinthia's entire female population along every day he was single?

"I never said I took you for anything," she pointed out. "You're the one that barged into my home and caused all this; don't blame me." He opened his mouth, but then seemed to rethink what he was going to say.

"It doesn't matter anyway," he eventually mumbled. "I told you that you wouldn't want it."

"I was just shocked; I thought you were going to kiss me or something," she countered, before mentally slapping herself. _Because that makes it sound like you were never interested in the first place, doesn't it?_ But at the same time, another, smaller voice in the back of her mind joined in with, _Kissing him really doesn't sound that bad, does it?_ His expression changed from disappoint, to surprise, to confusion.

"Y-you'd have let me kiss you?" he asked in disbelief.

"Well, perhaps," she answered, trying to keep her voice sounding distant and neutral. He inched back into the hall properly.

"Would you let me do it now?" he continued, sounding eager.

"No!" Her cheeks burned hotly. "What on earth are you talking about? We're not a couple!"

"We could be."

"That's beside the point!" She smacked the Leisure Hour against her hip. "You're not seriously going to stand there and ask me out _now_ , are you?"

"Would you go out with me Sunday next?" he replied, his voice a challenge. She shook her head.

"I read the Leisure Hour on Sundays, when I'm not being hounded by my coworker in my own home," she snapped hotly. He tilted his head, giving her a look that she took to mean he thought she was being overly difficult.

"Another day, then," he drawled sarcastically. Her mouth worked for a moment and she looked away.

"It… It depends on what you have in mind. But I can't make any promises." She heard him move and turned back just in time to have him box her in against the doorframe, peering closely down at her face.

"Why is it so hard for you to admit that you want to go out with me?" he asked seriously, as if he really couldn't wrap his mind around it. She stared back defiantly, forcing herself to remain still when all she wanted to do was push him away and give her some space. _Contradicting yourself now, Eve? First you wanted him closer than a few yards, and now you want him to go back to where he was before._ The tinier voice in the back of her mind put in its two sense as well: _Do you even really_ _ **know**_ _what you want? Or are you just scared to admit that you want it?_

"It's not hard! I'm not—" She sighed in defeat. "I'm free on Friday nights. But," she added quickly, before he could celebrate, "if I'm not thoroughly impressed then we _never_ speak of dating again." He still beamed as he let her go.

"Friday night! We can go right after work, if you want!" he said brightly, and then gave a shrill whistle. Constantine bounded down the stairs, her yellow ribbon in his mouth and wound around one leg. He picked the dog up, gently untangling it and handing the ribbon back to her. When she took it, he clasped her hand in his tightly and looked her in the eyes. "You'll be impressed," he assured her.

"I highly doubt it," she responded snippily. He only chuckled and let her go, holding Constantine lightly under one arm. "Give my greetings to Espella and Mrs. Eclaire," she said woodenly, standing in the foyer as he walked out the front door. He turned on the step, peering back in at her form in the darkened house.

"I will. Don't work too hard," he smirked. "And don't get too excited for Friday, either."

"I won't be." She shut the door behind him as he walked down her path, sighing to herself as her shoulders slumped. She looked down at the ribbon, damp with the dog's drool, and her nose curled. _That expression… he's planning to knock my socks off._

 _You'll be more than impressed,_ the small voice in her mind stated happily. _Might as well call yourself a couple now. Be prepared to be the most hated woman in town for the next month and a half._

"I could always lie and say I hated it," she said aloud to the empty hall, weighing her choices. A sly grin curled at the corners of her mouth as she looked down at the Leisure Hour in her other hand. _What a fool._ A truer statement was never thought, though whether she meant herself or him, she wasn't sure.

* * *

 **Afterward:** I wrote them in a little different way. They're more jibing towards each other than my other stories, but I kind of liked writing it. It was just something in my head that I had to get out.


End file.
